


Still

by hikarinaki



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Mommy Issues, Necrophilia, stream of conciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23999542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarinaki/pseuds/hikarinaki
Summary: Prompt: the real reason that Rhea kept Sitri so pristine all this time.
Relationships: Sitri Eisner | Byleth's Mother/Rhea
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Still

**Author's Note:**

> don't like don't read, it gets weird.  
> Set some time between Byleth's birth and when Aelfric discovers Sitri's body.
> 
> written for https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/

Her skin, white and pristine. Though the flush of blood and life has long left it, no blemish, nor stain will come to tarnish her. Not now, nor ever. Her body that somehow gave birth to new life. Life that was so powerful, so dear to her that she gave her own in exchange. Such is the love of a mother. Love so powerful, so insurmountable, that a mother cannot help but give her all for her child.

“Isn’t that right, Mother?” Rhea breathes. Kneeling by the stone pedestal where her body lay, Rhea has let her hair down, removed her heavy garments and her headpiece. The Archbishop Rhea was left on the surface. Here, underground, where the last traces of her brothers and sisters still linger...Here, she goes by the name that Mother gave her.

“Seiros,” she repeats, as if her own name has become foreign to her. She lifts the corpse’s hand and holds it to her place. “Don’t you remember me? Mother? It’s me, Seiros. Your daughter...your firstborn,” she mutters. It’s been so many times, far too many times. But looking upon this face, it still gives the lonely Nabatean a cold echo of the past.

Sitri was made from Seiros’ own blood, and the blood of Mother. And so, Sitri looks almost like one of her own kin. 

Her hair...her skin. It feels the same. Smooth, and bristling with the dull buzz of ancient magic. The power of the Progenitor Goddess. 

Seiros places her head against Sitri's breasts. Cold, but still yielding and soft just as she remembers. The fantasies and memories blur together in her mind. Of her lips against Sothis’ skin, of their bodies intertwined. Seiros was the first born...the first flesh that Sothis had ever known. The first love that had ever set Seiros’ flesh ablaze.

Sitri too had been hers once. As Rhea, Seiros had taught Sitri like mother once did. Showed her the divine light that came with the body that Sothis gifted.  
“Sitri...” Rhea grimaces, her hand digging into the gown that covered Sitri's body. “My child...”

The Bodies of Mother never lived long. Even though born of Nabatean blood, that spark never lasted long. Their flesh did not receive mother’s light. And they each faded, one after another.

_ Bael, Agares, Vassago, Samigina, Marbas, Valefor, Amon, Barbatos, Bayemon, Buer, Guison, _

**_....Sitri.... _ **

Sitri is the only one that remains....Her only true child that still remains...

Seiros tears the clothes from Sitri's body, a momentary flash of her true beastly nature. Her hands roam once again, tracing along the scar. That terrible, awful scar...formed before her time. Sitri had been too young. She had not yet lived to the end of her life. Had not had her chance to awaken as mother...

_Sitri...how could you....how could you leave me...for him?_

Rhea had chosen him, given her blood to that mortal. And he took Sitri, he took **_Byleth!_**

“No....no no no no no,” Seiros mutters, clambering onto the dias, her own chemise starting to fall from her shoulders. Her face is against that pale skin, hard as porcelain. A forked tongue laps out and she can almost remember what it tasted like. When her mother’s blood coursed through those veins. When her lips would latch, and suckle, when she would hear that gasp, that soft moan and then— _“There there...my precious daughter.”_  
  
Seiros lets out a sound, somewhere between a roar and a cry of unbridled ecstasy. She feels it, building and coiling. 

_Mother....mother...mother....._

Even as her nails threaten to bloom into claws, she traces a hand down Sitri's body. That same bosom, her soft stomach, flat and now no longer distorted by that... that... ** _child_**  
In search of that warmth, Seiros' hand traces a familiar path. There, between Sitri's legs, somewhere that once only Seiros knew. Just them, just the two of them. Secrets, shared; joy, pain, utter bliss. It parts before her fingers but oh— to hear her moans again; oh— to feel that essence seep into Seiros’ skin again, to taste of her utmost pleasure.  


Rhea screams again as she feels that heat in her own loins rage to the edge of utter agony. She coils around, desperately presses her desire against Sitri, wrapping herself, entwining with Sitri's shapely thigh. Just like before....Just like before. 10 years is a blink of an eye to Seiros. It was only just before that Sitri still lived. Seiros can still taste her, can still feel her.  
“Byleth...” she hisses, her fingers curling deep at claws in Sitri’s cunt. “Why.... _why why why_ ,” Seiros mutters, senselessly. 

_Mother...mother...Where are you? Mother? Where did he take you? Where? Where? Where are you mother? Why have you left me?_

That beastly roar, one that was said to rend the heavens. When mother was taken, when her bones were mutilated— nothing could compare to that pain, that suffering. 

Again, again, again. Seiros would give her blood, she would raise this vessel, she would teach her again, and again, and again, she would taste of her mother again and again and again until she could finally, finally be reunited.

When all is said and done. Rhea, the archbishop of the church of Seiros lies still, as motionless as the corpse she has adorned. Sweat, tears, cum, it collates on Sitri's lifeless skin. But nothing, not even the slightest spark returns.

Rhea caresses her face, eyes still glistening with tears as they fall.

“Wait for me...mother. I swear. I will come back,” she says, leaning down once more, meeting the doll’s lips with her own.

Soft, yet yielding, shaped just how she remembers.

But still. Utterly, completely and unquestionably, 

Still.


End file.
